


Being Alive

by rightonthelimit



Series: Tom/Harry Drabble Collection [19]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 03:50:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightonthelimit/pseuds/rightonthelimit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom is an artist… Of some sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being Alive

  **A/N: Please do not repost, recreate or translate.**

**Being Alive**

It is said by a great pop icon that as artists, we are eternally heartbroken.

Tom often wondered about the true definition of art, and which role he played in society. There always comes a time in all of our lives that we need to stop and think about who we are and what we stand for, after all, and Tom was no different. He knew his own intentions and strove to reach his goals, but sometimes he just stopped to consider that people did not always see things his way even if his way was always right and the most logical one to begin with.

For example, Tom saw beauty in crimson blood pouring from fresh wounds on the bodies of his models. Others spoke of cruelty.

Tom did not think he was cruel as he rid said people of their lives, which was a small mercy, for they were all the same even if they were annoyingly unique in their own blandness. A life without purpose was not a life worth living, so really, Tom did them a favor.

But there was one key detail they all had in common.

Tom made them feel more alive than ever, right before he stole the life from their eyes.

* * *

His name was Harry, and he called himself an artist as well.

Tom met him in a coffee shop where he was looking for a new model – victim – for another piece of art, of which Tom knew the newspapers would die to write articles about. No one had caught Tom’s mindful eye, but apparently Tom did catch someone else’s eye and that worked just as well.

‘Excuse me,’ green eyed Harry had said politely, distracting Tom from his inner musings. Harry was not tall, but his wild raven hair and piercing – pretty – green eyes made up for that. Tom thought to himself that eyes like that should be locked somewhere safe, like in a glass box on Tom’s nightstand… or on a chain around Tom’s neck.

Tom absentmindedly caressed the golden ring around his finger and hummed to acknowledge the boy.

Harry smiled.

‘I hope I’m not being too straightforward, or that I sound creepy -’ Tom inwardly snorted at that, ‘- but as an art student, purely aesthetically and realistically speaking, you’re absolutely gorgeous.’

Tom felt his eyebrows rise, his eyes boring into Harry’s as the boy flushed but almost defiantly refused to break eye contact.

Tom’s had his fair share of guys and girls coming on to him, and he’s heard quite the few pick-up lines which resulted into said guys and girls dying a very painful, slow death.

But this one, surprisingly, amused him.

‘Are you attempting to flirt with me, mister…?’

‘Harry,’ the boy instantly offered when he caught on with how Tom dragged that last word on, ‘my name is Harry Potter. And yes, I am.’

‘Harry,’ Tom parroted as they shook hands, tasting the word on his lips and liking how it rolled off his tongue. He looked Harry in the eye, contemplating the possibilities. ‘I am Tom Riddle. As an artist, I can say that you are a masterpiece.’

And truly Harry was, for no one had ever been so eloquent, so determined despite their initial shyness. All without a touch of Tom’s hands. Tom smirked and Harry blinked and then grinned, gratefully taking the empty seat at Tom’s table when Tom gestured him to sit down.

‘You’re an artist too?’ Harry asked in a mildly surprised, but mainly impressed, tone, ‘wow. Somehow I expected you in an office, barking orders at people.’

It should offend Tom that the boy was talking to him like they were equals, but surprisingly, it did not. He was so used to being treated like he was a god that it was refreshing to be brought back down to earth every now and then. Tom chuckled and took a sip of his coffee, not once breaking eye contact.

‘Oh no, in fact – my works have been featured in plenty of magazines and newspapers before.’ The fact that his reviews, as Tom called the articles written by shocked reporters filled with clinical facts and shocked, outraged and terrified quotes from blabbering fools, was put aside.

Harry whistled, clearly still impressed, if not even more so.

‘That good? I hope I’ll be that good one day, it’s amazing to get recognized for your hard work and a lot of artists don’t get that chance… If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do?’

Tom studied Harry’s features for a moment. He appeared excited, a certain light in his eyes that had been there right from the very start, one that Tom knew he would never be able to steal and claim as his own.

‘A little bit of this and that,’ Tom tentatively replied, realizing he had never discussed his art with anyone before, ‘Carving… finger painting.’

Harry nodded eagerly and it made Tom feel oddly encouraged. If he could, he’d give Harry a demonstration right now… alas…

‘It takes consummate skill and focus, not to mention a mindful eye. But then again, those are key skills to being alive.’

Ironic how those were also the key skills to murder.

* * *

 

Love is an abstract concept, perceived in different ways by all people. Some thought of roses and hearts when they heard the word love, others thought of heartbreak and loss. It all depended on how you’d look on it.

Tom was the kind of person to think of red.

The red blood flowing through Harry’s veins in particular, begging to be splattered on the pristine tiles of Tom’s bathroom floor.

_‘The amount of kills have doubled, and police strongly advices everyone not to leave the house after dark by themselves until they have found the killer. Police has yet to find any suspects so if you know anything, please call…’_

‘Hey, did you see the news? About that serial killer guy?’

It was a Saturday night, three months after Tom met Harry. The keys to Harry’s house jingled in Tom’s hand as he tucked them in his coat pocket before hanging the piece of clothing up, the swiss army knife in his pocket a steady weight.

Harry wasn’t wearing shoes, looking as relaxed as anyone would be in their own house without knowing that said serial killer was right behind them. Tom looked at Harry and then his eyes flicked over to the tv screen, appearing to be in deep thought.

‘Yes I have,’ Tom finally replied, casually shoving his hand into his pocket, his fingers grazing over the knife longingly. ‘What of it?’

Harry shrugged and patted the place next to him, looking at Tom expectantly and smiling. It seemed so out of place considering the subject at hand. Neither cared.

‘That guy must be pretty smart, yeah? I don’t approve of him taking lives, but to avoid being seen like that… it’s pretty impressive.’ Tom sat down on the couch and Harry kept staring at him for a bit longer, before he leaned over and nudged Tom’s elbow, a silent request for him to lift his arm and drape it around Harry’s shoulders.

‘You’d be surprised at how easy it is to remain unseen in a city like this,’ Tom mused as he indulged Harry, ‘with the right tools and some common sense, that is.’

‘Hmm,’ Harry hummed. He was so close Tom could smell the sweetness of the hot chocolate Harry had just drunk under his breath, so close their noses brushed when Tom turned his head to properly look Harry in the green eyes. ‘I bet you would’ve caught him easily if you were a cop,’ Harry’s intent clear when he glanced at Tom’s mouth.

Tom couldn’t help but smirk. It was all so twisted – Harry looking up to him, the vague pictures Tom had made of his victims to show Harry some of his art, Harry’s ignorance. Sometimes Tom wondered if Harry was truly that dense or if he himself played his role too well.

‘I have too much fun watching,’ Tom murmured.

‘I noticed that this morning when I woke up to find you staring at me,’ Harry agreed in an amused tone. Tom’s lips quirked up.

‘Art is created to be shown off,’ he stated simply.

He just didn’t know what to do with this piece just yet.


End file.
